


I'll Distract (You hide.)

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, F/M, Humor, Insomnia, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mass Murder, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Stiles Stilinski is Alpha Bait, Stiles Stilinski is Not Amused, Stiles Stilinski is Seventeen Years Old, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Top Peter Hale, Werewolf magnet, scary Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stiles hated whenever Scott had an idea; it always lead to one of two things. Either Stiles has to come up with an excuse good enough to keep them out of (serious) trouble, or Stiles get's caught in the cross-fire and ends up with permanent mental/physical/emotional damage and enough stress to light up an entire city for a month.Tonight is, of course, no different; I mean, of course it was a great idea to break into the school, taunt an Alpha who has currently killed over three people (as far as Stiles has been paying attention) and, apparently, has taken a liking to play with his food.





	I'll Distract (You hide.)

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm going to hell, but you fuckers clicked on the link so I'm taking you down with me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn't against an acid, which in all honesty was his first thought; but he would prefer to keep his skin on his body and does not, in fact, want it melting off his bones as he speaks. Stiles picked up one of the half-dead plants sitting on a window panel and decided it was good enough to do what he needed to do.

Of course Scott is Stiles' best friend; they've been inseparable since they were, like, five. Scott has always covered Stiles, and vice-versa. And that's their MO.

 _Then why is it_ , Stiles has started to ponder,  _that whenever Scott has an idea I always end up paying for it in some way, shape, or form?_ Ah yes, of course it was a sensational-fucking-idea to break into the school, (illegal) taunt the big bad Alpha, (Fucking Stupid) and then lock themselves inside the school with said big-bad-Alpha. (Dumbest of them-fucking-all.) 

The millisecond it took for the Alpha to lift Derek off the ground, Stiles had known one thing; Scott better worship him for the rest of their miserable high-school careers. Because the moment Derek was laying, face down in the grass, Stiles grabs Scott by his scruffy little collar and drags him to what was the safest place at that moment. Which highlights their current problem.

"Lock it, Lock it!" Scott's panic was clear in the air, even for a human like Stiles.

"Do I look like I have the key?" Stiles snapped back harshly, holding onto the handle and his bulky-as-all-fuck flashlight for dear life. Stiles watched Scott cringe in fear for a moment before he yelled again.

"Then just grab something!" 

"Like what?" 

Scott cried "Anything!" And Stiles, in his beautiful and wonderful moment of genius, looks out the door's window. To where the giant pair of pliers sat, innocently enough, on one of the bottom stairs.

"No." Scott sounded down right terrified now, so it seems Stiles couldn't trust him to go and get the damn things. 

"Yes," Stiles pat Scott's shoulder in what was supposed to be a form of comfort before sliding through the small gap in the doors he made without breaking his line of sight with the pliers.

"Stiles, no; please, don't." Scott's voice cracked out before the doors closed behind him, leaving him exposed to the open parking-lot.

He looked around; felt a lot of suspicion when he saw nothing. No scratch marks on the concrete, no angry red eyes, not even one patch of fur out of place. Which means one of two options; either the Alpha only wanted to kill Derek, (Which was a waste of perfectly good stubble and abs,) or it was just waiting for it's chance once someone drops their guard.

Stiles practically slid down the ground to grab the pliers, no sound emanating from him as he moved. He grabbed the handle and looked at it in victory, but the sharp bang of Scott's fist on the door and his panic-filled shouts paired with his muffled-warnings forced his head to jolt up. Ah, there the bastard was; it had just peaked around Stiles' jeep, and was practically looking into his soul. The eyes literally glowed in the dark, and Stiles felt a bolt of adrenaline run itself up his spine and through his limbs. He started moving when it did, running up the steps and forcing the doors open, spinning and jamming the handles into place in a blur of rushed movements.

Stiles let himself feel a small moment of victory before stepping back, still in line with Scott.

"That won't hold," Scott questioned warily, "Will it?"

Stiles looked back apprehensively, "Probably not."

They both turned to face the wide corridor, and it was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold milk down Stiles when the entire school echoed with a howl; a howl that neither came from his party beside him, nor from the outside world. Stiles rushed into the first classroom that felt mildly safe, mind whirring through every possible solution he could think of. Given the fact that he was stuck in here with Scott, of all people, his plans slowly dwindled to the most basic of survival options. 

Scott made to start pushing the desk up against the door, and on instinct Stiles began to follow suit. He froze and ordered Scott to stop when the absolutely ear-splitting screech the desk made upon it's drag across the floor.

"No; stop, stop." Stiles held his hand out, arms gesturing wildly to the still-open door behind himself. 

"That door's not gonna keep it out." He stated, exasperated and already fed up with this little adventure.

"I know." Scott admitted.

Stiles ran a hand through his buzz-cut in thought; "I hate your boss." Stiles started.

"What?"

"Deaton? The Alpha? _Your_ boss?" Of course, Stiles still had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't the case. The werewolf was consumed by anger and hatred; Stiles could feel it the moment it reared it's ugly head after throwing Derek to the wall. If the Alpha didn't have any control, Stiles knew he would be dead, and Scott probably following suit soon after. The only thing Stiles has ever gotten from Deaton, even when he was little, has always been this silent humming. It always tended to numb him a little bit, soothing. Not exactly comparable to what his mother felt like, but it's been enough. 

"No!" Scott sounded honestly offended.

"Yes, murdering-psycho werewolf!" Stiles scream-whispered, voice cracking under the stress. Scott seemed torn apart by the thought, and Stiles dropped the accusation for the moment, focusing more effort on keeping both he and his dim-witted friend alive.

"What do we do?" Scott was frazzled and panicked, and the last thing Stiles needed was two out-of-control werewolves. So he inhaled violently and stated, "We get to my jeep, we get out of here, and you seriously think about quitting your job. Good?"

Stiles nodded in Scott's place, grabbing his flashlight and walking around the desk to look out through the window, towards his and Derek's parked cars. Scott went to jerk the window open, and Stiles (As always) had to corral his friend away from brutalizing the school anymore than they're going to have to. He pulled Scott back and moved his hands off the window, "No they don't open; the school's climate-controlled."

"Then we break it." Damn Scott and his stupid fucking cave-man brain. Or would it be wolf-man? Either way the idiot's going to get the both of them killed before Stiles' can even get a word in, edge wise.

"Yeah, which will make a lot of  _noise._ You know, the last thing we need to do when stuck inside a very much-so empty high-school, with a very angry Alpha wanting to rip our heads off?"  
Scott blanched for a moment before scanning the parking-lot, "Then, we run really fast."

Stiles made eye-contact with him for a moment, then looked all the way across the school yard, to where he and Derek had parked their cars. Scott dropped his shoulders,  _"Really_ fast."

Stiles started looking around, hoping to find  _something_ natural in this artificial, brand-named  _everything_ hell-hole. Maybe a chemical that appears naturally could do it; it's not like there's some class or club who's suddenly going green and placing real, live and healthy plants in every room. Yeah, a chemical could work, if they were anywhere near the lab.

"Stiles, what's wrong with the hood of your jeep?"

Stiles felt his heart leap up and into his throat for a moment, stuttering out, "What do you mean, nothing's wring." 

"It's bent." 

Stiles pushed past Scott, looking out for himself "What, like dented?"

"No," Scott enunciated, "I mean it's  _bent."_

And indeed it was; the hood of Stiles' precious jeep was ripped open and back violently,  giant gouge marks left behind like some horror-movie.

 _'Oh my god, we're in a horror movie. And not even a good one either_ ,' Stiles thought. ' _We're in one of the real shitty ones that just release straight to DVD without ever even going to a theater_.'

"What the hell happ-"

Before Stiles could articulate the proper complaint, the glass directly above his head shattered violently, and as Scott and Stiles dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, Stiles sent out a prayer that whoever is dragging them through this hell will die a slow, painful death for fucking with his jeep.

The thing that shattered the window slid across the floor for a few feet, before slowing to a stop half-way. Stiles pointed, hand shaking "That's my battery."

Stiles started to get up; they needed to get to the lab, Stiles could get something there. He could have Scott hide somewhere in the locker room, or the cafeteria while Stiles did his thing. God, how long has it been? Since like, eighth grade-

"No!" Scott dragged Stiles back down violently, probably bruising his ass with the force of it.

"We have to move, Scott."

"No, he could be right outside." Scott whispered; haven't they both learned, if a werewolf is within like, five hundred feet of you, it doesn't matter weather you yell or whisper. The fucker's still going to hear you, either way.

"He  _is_ right outside." Stiles could feel him prowling around; a lot of anger, some amusement, arousal. ' _The sick bastard's probably getting off on this._ ' Yeah, that was definitely the case. Alpha-dude's probably gonna go home, lick whatever wounds he earns while killing them, 'cause who can think they're allowed to go up against a Stilinski and a McCall without getting something in return, and he's gonna go up and jack off for about three hours before getting it all out of his system.

Jesus, Stiles needed to calm down before something stupid happened. Last thing Stiles needed was another second-grade incident; not like the kid didn't deserve it, but it was pretty difficult to explain the exact  _how's_ and  _when's_ and  _why's_ when referring to how, when, and why a kid who pushed Stiles off the swing set was suddenly covered in giant welts the side of a man's fist.  _'Ah,'_ Stiles thought,  _'Childhood memories.'_

"Just let me take a look." Scott demanded, getting up on his knees and gazing out the window, to the completely empty parking-lot. Stiles soon followed suit, before asking "See anything?"

"No." 

"Move now?" Stiles questioned.

"Move now." Scott confirmed, before they both wen't staggering up to their feet and running out on shaking knees. Scott entered the hallway first, making his way to the front doors again, mumbling "This way."

"Ah," Stiles interjected, pulling Scott back and turning deeper into the corridor, "No, no, no, no."  
"What?"

"We want somewhere without windows, Scott." 

"Every single room in this building has windows." Scott really need's to work on his attitude, because there wasn't a hint of sarcasm in that sentence; nor in the gesture that followed it.

"Or somewhere with less windows." Stiles really hoped his friend wasn't dull enough to not get the hint-

"Locker room!"  _'Good boy, Scotty.'_

"Yeah," Stiles pushed him in the general direction of the locker-room. They speed walked through the hallways until Stiles met the locker-room door' pushing it open as quietly as he could. 

 _'Ah, fuck.'_ Stiles could still feel the Alpha; just as strong in here as it was in the class-room. Still so much anger; it almost suffocates Stiles every time he inhaled. 

"Quick, call your dad." Scott ordered, checking around the locker room in a blind panic.

"And tell him what?"

Scott whispered, "I-I don't know, anything. Gas leak, fire; whatever."

Stiles could feel his own anger boiling over, the mental image of his dad being ripped apart by the giant douche-bag made the tips of his fingers tingle, the light above them flickering on for a moment.

"If that thing sees' the parking lot filled with cops, it'll take off!" _'Oh to have your funny little brain, Scotty.'_

"What if it doesn't?" Stiles snapped back harshly, "What if it goes completely terminator and kills every cop in sight? Including my dad?" 

Scott's mind blanked before he responded, "They have guns."

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment before he argued, "Yeah, and Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane-laced bullet to even slow him down, you remember that?" 

Scott almost deflated before composing himself; "Then, then we have to.. find a way out and just run for it."

"Yeah? To where?" Stiles sassed back. "There's nothing near here for nearly two miles, Scott. I don't know about you, because of your little werewolf powers, but I'm mostly human; I can't make that without becoming an Alpha-snack."

Scott looked like he had some epiphany, adding "Well what about Derek's car?"  _'Oh Scotty I love you.'_

"That could work." Stiles couldn't feel Derek anymore. So he's either dead, moved far enough away that Stiles' can't feel him, Stiles is too panicked to try and find him, or he's just weak enough to go under the radar. "We go outside, get the key's off his body," Stiles shivered, " And then we take his car."

This plan sounded a lot more simple in theory, but re-enacting it will prove to be difficult. 

"And him." Scott demanded.

"Fine, whatever."

They circled around the lockers, reaching the door. Stiles went to twist the knob open when Scott suddenly snatched his arm; the three layers of clothes didn't hide the angry heat his friend seemed to always carry with him now, and the heat against his constantly freezing skin was a shock to his system.

"What?" Stiles asks.

"I think I heard something."

"Like what?" Scott shushed him as he listened further, before slowly backing away from the door.

"Hide." Scott demanded.

Stiles immediately went for the locker; the enclosed space was good enough to hide himself, and as long as Scott followed suit, Stiles could do the same for him. The ink impeded in his left shoulder tingled, and Stiles could feel the blanket fall over him as he closed the door. Scott did the same moments after, enclosing himself in the locker. Stiles could feel the energy reach out to Scott, enclosing him.

They stood there, waiting in tense silence as the door creaked open. Now, the rune for cover wasn't perfect for this situation; what they needed at the moment was something for erasure. To erase every trace of the two completely. Someone walked past Scott's locker, and Stiles cringed as he felt the cover break when Scott gasped quietly. Not quietly enough, apparently, because the intruder stopped in-front of Scott's door and pulled it open.

Stiles opened his as well, but tapped anything about to pop out down when he realized it was just the janitor, doing his rounds.

"Son of a bitch!" The man jumped, and Scott tried to shush him, "Quiet."

"Quiet my ass, what the hell are you trying to do, kill me?" Stiles felt a particularly violent wave of sick amusement coming in from above him, and swallowed down the fear it induced.

"Both of you, get out." 

The janitor pushed the two out the door, ignoring any and all protests as he did so. "Please," Stiles began, catching himself as he was shoved out of the door, "Just give us one second to explain."

"No, Just go-" The janitor was pulled back into the room with a scream, the door closing from the momentum. Scott immediately started trying in vain to open it, and the silhouette of the man pounding on the door with now bloodied hands will proceed to haunt Stiles nightmares; probably for the rest if his life. He pulled Scott away just as the man was removed from the door, and Stiles could feel some sick primal urge from the Alpha as they ran down the hallway. The sound of the door falling and making solid contact with the ground pushed Stiles even further. 

 

Stiles and Scott ran their way down to the old locker-rooms, the ones in the basement that literally no one ever went in, unless you were some freshman trying to look cool. Stiles could still feel him, the horrible sensation of blood underneath his fingers, and the smell of blood piercing his normally perfect self control. The smell of ozone, copper, and sweat mingled in the air heavily. Scott turned wide eyes to Stiles, smelling the break in the atmosphere. Stiles used the magic lingering in the air to activate his enclosure rune again, blanketing them in static magic. 

Scott decided to look over his shoulder, to the hunched form of the Alpha trying to smell them out. And he hoped Scott could control himself long enough to keep them from being eaten alive. Stiles could feel a layer of confusion overlay the overwhelming anger and hate, and that confusion bled into the arousal and amusement. 

Scott watched him stalk off down one of the hallways, turning to Stiles and mouthing, 'go.'

Without hesitation, the two sped off in the opposite direction of where the Alpha crept off to, the blanket shattering as the moved. They made their way closer to the boiler room.

"Alright, we have to do something." Stiles concluded out loud.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it-something. I can't work my usual stuff down here; it's all-" Stiles opened his arms wide and gestured to the concrete walls and solid metal lockers encompassing them.

They stood there, the low growling growing ever closer; Stiles jumped when it had obviously run it's fist through something, and the tiniest jingle of his keys in his pocket rang out. Stiles perked up and began rummaging through his coat pocket for said keys, pulling them out triumphantly. He elbowed Scott out of his way, leaned around the open door and looking into the boiler room. He chucked his keys into the boiler room and hastily pushed Scott back out of the line of sight at the same moment, allowing the Alpha to barrel inside the room. 

Stiles immediately ran forward and closed the door on it, screaming at Scott to "Grab the desk! The desk!" 

They both wedged the desk in-between the door and the wall, watching as the Alpha tried to force the door open. He growled and banged on the door; Stiles could feel less anger, less hatred as curiosity spilled over, along with something Stiles really couldn't place, a foreign emotion not really native to normal people as far as Stiles knows. Curiosity over-powered his self-preservation, as usual, and once Scott had crawled his way over the desk Stiles perched himself on it in a low crouch, flashing his light in as many of the corners as he could; just wanting one good look at what it is they're facing.

"What are you doing!?" Scott's voice was panicky; a running theme of his tonight, Stiles supposed.

"I just want to get a look at him." 

Stiles watched for any movement in the room, and grinned when he saw a hulking shadow pass by the doors gated window. 

"Are you crazy?" Scott asked as Stiles leaned even closer to the window, nose nearly touching the grated wires in the opening of the door. 

"Look," Stiles started, eyes not moving from the opening in hopes of catching another look at it, "It's trapped, okay? It's not gonna get out." 

Stiles poked his tongue out as he stared, eyes glancing it every couple of seconds as it paced. It made eye-contact on one pass and Stiles grinned from ear to ear; then the smell of irritation was starting to edge its way in again, like the Alpha thought it was insulting to be gawked at.

"Well maybe you should have thought of this outcome  _before_ falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book. I mean, it's not like it's that hard; I'm sure you could have heard out heartbeats just as well as Scott can-" Stiles paused, "In fact, yours should be even better..."

Stiles turned to Scott, who's still standing next to him. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed and fear tinting every move he made.

"If he's so strong, fast, and capable how'd he get trapped in-" 

The sound of the ceiling being torn open interrupted Stiles' questioning, and Scott had pulled him off the desk by the time he looked back into the room to watch the ceiling crumble to pieces and large hind legs to kick itself up into the rafters.

The two teens watched as the ceiling above them slowly caved downwards under the Alpha's weight, and the taste of bitter-sweet victory coated Stiles' tongue moments before Scott hauled Stiles back into the beginning of a run. The moment Stiles' feet started to listen, he heard the werewolf make solid contact with the concrete floor, where Stiles had been standing moments ago.

They ran through the halls for what felt like both a second and fifteen years, until Scott suddenly halted Stiles. "Can you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Stiles could guess what it is he's talking about, though; the feeling of three other peoples fear, apprehension, worry, and uncertainty could hint at there being more people in the building now. 

"It sounds like a phone ringing."

Scoot sounded pained when he added on, "I know that ringing. It's Allison's phone."

 Stiles felt his heart jump down to his stomach, then up to his throat. If only he could find something! A bug, some dirt, a plant; anything would be a blessing right now. Stiles pulled his phone out and dialed Allison, bringing the phone up to his ear and praying to Zeus and Hades that she'll pick up-

"Stiles?" Allison answered, confused and slightly put-off at the sudden call.

"It's me, where are you?" He demanded.

"I'm in the school looking for you; why weren't you at my place?"

"No, where are you  _right now?"_ He pushed; he could feel the Alpha stalking closer.

"On the first floor."  _'dammit Allison; work with me for once.'_

"Where?! Where are you,  _exactly?"_ He all but pleaded.

"The swimming pools?"

Jesus, the Alpha was pacing around the first floor. 

"Get to the lobby. Go now." 

Stiles hung up before she could retort, as he and Scott ran the entire way back up to the lobby. They pushed the door open and looked around the darkened room. Stiles let his crackling energy pass through him, activating the tracking rune on his right peck. The Alpha perked up at something, a tint of sick joy and more arousal; but before Stiles could ponder as to what exactly it was reacting to, Scoot and Allison started to question each other. 

"-Because you asked me to?"

Stiles spun on the words as Allison lifted her phone in confirmation; Scott's contact, Scott's number. Only thing is the fact that it wasn't Scott. 

"Did you drive here?"  _'Great question Stiles; no, she walked.'_

"Jackson did-" "Jackson's here too?" "And lydia. What's going on?"

Lydia and Jackson decided that right then was the perfect time to burst through the doors. Confusion gave way to weariness, then anger and irritation. Lydia's strawberry blonde hair bounced as she stormed in, asking if they could finally leave. Before Stiles was able to retort, his alarm bells started screeching at him. On instinct, he grabbed both Lydia and Jackson away from where his brain was signaling ' _danger.'_  

And thank god he did, and that he pushed the group to the stairs screaming at them to run, because not two seconds later the body of the Alpha had fallen in from the roof; and he landed right where the couple was standing. Stiles pushed Jackson up the stairs, Lydia having already broken out of his grasp to dash up the steps two at a time. They turned right, down the corridor and thankfully right to the chemistry labs. Stiles thanked who-ever was listening earlier and pushed everyone in, turning to lock the door behind him. He glanced around, and blanched at the floor-to-ceiling windows lining an entire wall.

Before he could voice an opinion on weather they should continue to run, the other three began to stack desks and chairs up against the door.

"Hey, wait not here."

Jackson pushed an entire freezer against the door.

"You guys?"

Scott placed a desk on-top of that.

"Stiles talking here. Guys."

Lydia and Allison piled chairs on the desk, until they couldn't reach.

"HELLO?"

Stiles finally got the attention of the group; Allison was near panic-crying, Lydia looked furious and Jackson looked constipated. All great looks on them, really. 

"Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job everybody. Now, what should we do about the twenty foot wall of windows?" 

Stiles gestured wildly to said windows, anger obvious in the movements as he jerked his arms around. Like, really; how dense are these people? Scott he could understand, it's Scott. And he guessed there wasn't much hope for Jackson, given how much of a block head he's always been. But Lydia? Allison? They were his only hope at having some actually _intellectual_ backup in this situation, and now here they were, growing dumber and dumber the longer they stood next to their bricks-worth of boyfriends. 

Allison turned to Scott, asked what had happened. She wasn't near crying, Stiles realized. She was crying, tears welling up in her eyes as she turned to her boyfriend for answers. All Scott did was walk away, to a desk perched in the middle of the room. Anxiety and fear clung to him like stink on a pile of shit, and Stiles watched as the rest of the group still looked to Scott for answers. 

Stiles stepped forward, removing his jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair.

"Somebody killed the janitor." He paused to roll his flannel up as well, exposing the long trails of black swirling ink covering his forearm. The sigils, runes, and summoning's painted on his body all burst to life when he rolled his shoulders. He could feel the ink moving under his skin, restless and flowing. The pool of blood on his lower back started to ripple, the giant oak tree that stretched from his armpit to his thigh shivered. His vines slithered down his arm and to the palm of his hand, then back up again. The thorns embedded in his calf constricted. His body burst to life.

"What?"

Lydia's voice was uncharacteristically small, and Stiles' felt slightly horrible about having said that, but Scott didn't seem to be talking. 

"Yeah," Stiles confirmed, "The janitors' dead."

Allison seemed almost insulted, "What's he talking about? Is this a _joke_?"

"Who killed him?" Jackson asked, looking to Scott, as if he had all the answers. 

Stiles felt a wave of pure fear and panic wash through the air; he jerked his head up and heard Lydia's petrified rant, "no,no,no,no, This was supposed to be over; the mountain lion killed-"

Jackson grabbed her shoulder roughly and stated, rather harshly, "No, don't you get it? There was no mountain lion."

"Well then who was it?" Allison demanded, "What does he want?"

Allison grabbed at her head, tears welling back up in her eyes as she paced slightly, "What's happening?" 

She wiped her face with her sleeve, and as Stiles turned to look through the cabinet, listened in on what was happening as he went to work.

"Scott?" Allison was almost enraged now, panic pushing her to more natural, non-logical instincts.

"I-I don't know, I just; all I know is that if we go out there, he's gonna kill us."

" _Us_?" Lydia was down right terrified; not an ounce of anything else, just pure  _fear._ It felt like acrid puke on Stiles tongue as he turned to watch what went down. 

"He's gonna kill us? Why would he want to kill us?"

"Who?" Allison almost yelled, "Who is it?"

Stiles jerked his head to Scott when he felt a sudden spike of regret and shame, and almost blanched when he stated, "It's Derek."

"It's Derek Hale."

Stiles raised his eyebrows in Scott's direction in disbelief.

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson didn't sound very convinced.

"Are you sure?" Allison sounded defeated; lost.

"No, no but the mountain lion-" 

"No; Derek Killed them. I saw him."

"All of them?"

Stiles felt another wash of shame as Scott yelled, "Yes, all of them; starting with his own sister."

"The bus driver?' Allison whispered. "Yes, and the guy in the video store; it's been Derek this whole time." 

"He's in here with us," Scott continued, "And if we don't get out now, he's going to kill us too."

Stiles felt his eyes roll, irritation and disbelief still running it's course as he pulled Scott aside, watching the group of teenagers panic at this  _new_ revelation. 

"Okay," Stiles started once everyone was separated, "First off, throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done."

"I didn't know what to say, I had to say something. And if he's dead then it doesn't matter, right? Except if he's not." Stiles felt another wave of guilt and panic. Stiles placed a firm hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. 

"I'll get us out of this, okay?" He reassured quietly, a whisper. "I'll take care of this; it'll all be fine."

Stiles spun back around and regarded the group with a new light. Now that Derek was the one to blame, he needed to completely change his plans. 

He wasn't against an acid, which in all honesty was his first thought; but he would prefer to keep his skin on his body and does not, in fact, want it melting off his bones as he speaks. Stiles picked up one of the half-dead plants sitting on a window panel and decided it was good enough to do what he needed to do. 

"Listen." He started, but Allison and Scott were still arguing. "Hey," he tried again, but to no avail. Not willing to take being ignored again, Stiles lifted an old, wooden chair and smashed it on the ground; hard.

"What the hell, Stiles!" Lydia yelled.

"Listen, Now." Stiles commanded, pushing as much will as he could into the vibrations of his voice. 

"What you're all going to do, is you're going to open that door back there." He pointed to the door that leads to the kitchen. "You are going to exit, using that door. And then, you are going to lock that door behind you."

"But that only goes up?" Scott protested.

Stiles was about to answer with 'better than being locked up in here' but the sudden pounding on the door froze the words in his throat. Lydia stood behind Jackson and Allison behind her, with Scott and Stiles at the front. Stiles rolled his other sleeve up and turned, pushing Scott on the shoulder.

"Let's go, now!" Jackson herded Lydia and Allison to the door, pulling it open and rushing inside. Scott turned to let Stiles in first, and Stiles felt Scott's cold wave of shock when he ended up pushing Scott through the door, closing it, and locked it shut.

"Stiles? Stiles, what are you doing?" Scott continued to pound on the kitchen door, trying the knob and finding it locked into place. Stiles speed walked to the cabinate and grabbed a scalpel out of a bucket. 

"Stiles!" Now Allison was screaming too, and another fist started beating the door. Stiles turned his back on the increasingly collapsing barricade to crowd the only exit. 

"Listen to me, okay? You guys are going to leave. I'm distracting it- just, just leave. Okay? I'll be fine." Another wave of will behind his words, and Allison retreated; Scott always was hard-headed, though. Stiles will never seemed to work on him.

Scott refused to stop pounding on the door, and Stiles suspected the only reason the violent banging ceased at all was because Jackson probably got herded in to pull Scott away, to the chagrin of both Lydia and Allison. Stiles could feel the absolute terror and despair from his friend as he was carted away, and Stiles turned to face the newly revealed werewolf. 

He was large, black; pretty terrifying, honestly. Stiles wasn't lying to himself when he thought he was living in a horror movie. The sudden sound of a car pulling out and skidding on the pavement sounded out through Stiles senses, and he gasped a sigh of relief.

Scott got further and further, until Stiles could no longer feel the horror practically oozing off his best friend.  The bilious looking creature glared him down, and Stiles shrugged with a smile. He grasped a leaf from the plant in his hand, and in the other dragged the blade down his palm. The welling of blood dripped into the leaf, and the feeling of his vines coiling down his arm and peeling off his skin into the palm of his hand was an exhilarating one. The creature didn't seem furious; if anything, he only felt slightly perturbed, like a kid knocked his sandcastle down and now he has to build a new one. 

Stiles felt the wave of something again, the thing he didn't understand. It sent a shock-wave through him, forcing him to gasp at the intensity. 

It crawled over the rubble of a barricade, moving across the room; he was slowly headed straight for Stiles.

"So am I allowed to ask for your secret identity, or do you have some sort of 'I'm batman' rule where that's just off limits?" Stiles babbled, hiding his hands behind his back as his vines grew; overflowing and coiling around his arms. It had gotten even closer; now it was within arms reach, and began to stand itself up on his hind legs. Acting fast, Stiles sent his arms flying out, the coils of thorned vines dripping with his version of a werewolf-safe sedative. The werewolf was faster though, grabbing the part of his arm still covered with his sleeve and gripping both arms on one hand, ceasing the flow of his magic. Stiles could feel the pull as they tried in vain to reach him, and the shock overcoming his body made him go numb.  _'There went that plan.'_ Stiles thought; maybe he could convince it to only severely maim him and not to leave him as as pile of minced meat on the floor for his dad to discover.

 

 

 

 

The werewolf could smell them; could smell  _him._  Like blackberries and burnt sugar and ozone all rolled up into one blabbering teenager. There was the smell of growth; coppery like blood, dark and damp like earth. The teenager was a magic wielder, and a skilled one at that, glancing at the runes pasted all over what skin the Alpha could get a glimpse of. The boy smelled of so many different things, different  _people._ The Alpha didn't like it; this belongs to him now.

The boy must feel that, must sense it, because his shoulders scrunch up and his mouth opens wide in shock for all but a moment before his face returns to pleasantly surprised. The boy starts to speak, voice low and crackling every now and then with energy and emotion. The Alpha gets even closer, is within arms length when the boy moves. Sadly, for the boy, he wasn't fast enough to catch the werewolf off guard. 

The boy's arms were caught in one large hand, vines writhing and attempting to stretch towards the wolf, thorns sharp and glinting with something that made the werewolf scrunch it's nose and growl lowly in his throat. The boy's breath catches, and as the black vines retreat back into his skin, the werewolf brings the boy closer. Snout pressed into the cool neck, he breaths deeply. Here, everything was magnified; every breath pushed from soft, parted lips was a warm puff across the werewolf's cheek. Throughout the night, as the Alpha ran and circled and taunted, not once did this boy feel fear. The Alpha couldn't decide if this was due to stupidity bravery. Perhaps a mix of both.

The Alpha spun the boy around so his back was to the Alpha's chest, lifting his arms up above his head. The boy was left standing on the balls of his feet at the strain, and the Alpha placed his nose behind his ear, inhaling the scent of all this boy is made of. Hot asphalt, burnt sugar, blackberries, cinnamon, ozone, sweat, salt; it was all in the form of a teenager with a will strong enough to face down an Alpha with not other weapon but himself.

The werewolf rumbled happily, unoccupied hand circling around to settle down on the teen's abdomen, pressing him further, back into the chest of the Alpha. The boy started to speak again, words lost as his volume and pitch went higher. The werewolf hummed, letting his nose trail further and settling at the pale column of his throat. The boy's speaking halted for a moment, breath catching in his gasp, coming out as a small squeak of surprise. The Alpha felt another wave of want course through him, and with it a breathless gasp from the boy. Intrigued, the werewolf ran his hand from the boys middle, up to a peck; laying one giant hand across the span of his entire chest.  He could feel the heart beat he couldn't hear, could smell the overlaying magic the boy plastered to himself.

The werewolf brought the boys arms down his front and plastered them to his chest, pressing the boy back against the body behind him. The Alpha, before he could do anything else, jerked his head up when the sounds of sirens off in the distance began to grow closer. A growl ripped from his chest, and the boy tensed even further; the Alpha smelled the static and energy in the air before the hit landed, a force he could not see pushing him back and through the doors behind him. 

The Alpha knew he had to leave, and with slightly less anger-clouded judgement, spun and made an escape through a window, landing on his feet effortlessly. He leaned his head back and howled, as loud and as long as he could manage before making his way through the surrounding woods, disappearing through the thick cover of trees. 

 

 

Stiles could feel his heartbeat in his chest and the thing left, the slimy texture covering his neck burned as the runes erased the scent the werewolf tried to leave. Stiles ran through the doors he pushed it through quickly, watching the hulking form barrel it's way through the forest, gone in an instant. Stiles took a breath in and forced it out slowly, his head hurting and exhaustion started to corner in at the edge of his sub-conscious; but he couldn't sleep until everything was taken care of. Since Scott must have left an anonymous message to the police about a break-in at the school, the last thing Stiles needed to do was explain to his dad how everything happened. 

Stiles ran back to the room and grabbed his coat, hopping down the stairs three at a time before he made it to the ground level. He made it to the first room he and Scott hid in and hefted his battery up, wrapping his jacket around it and making his through the broken window ahead of him. The glass tried to tear at his clothing as he crawled through, snagging on loose threads here and there, but otherwise he made it through the hole un-harmed. He sprinted his way to the Jeep, the sounds of sirens' blaring through the night air pushing him to act faster. Her hood was horribly bent and torn, but the rune's Stiles had placed on her not a week after Scott was bitten glowed once he placed himself in the drivers seat.

"Come on, baby girl," He purred once he was seated. "Let's see what kind of pumpkin you can turn into."

The wheels spun in reverse, and Stiles peeled out of the parking lot as quickly as possible. He looked into the mirrors and panicked at the flashing lights, peaking up at the edge of the hill. Stiles willed the wheels to go faster, and he sped off in the opposite direction of civilization. He would need to take an extra hour to get onto a side road and back to town, but his dad should still be at the school. If Stiles is lucky he can manage to get a few hours of sleep. He glanced at the clock on his dash-board and groaned; it was already almost four A.M.

"Ain't no rest for the wicked, right baby?"

The rune purred under his hand, and Stiles smiled to himself.


End file.
